Notice: Part II
by A for Anarchy
Summary: This is the twelfth fic in my one-word prompt series, and it is a direct sequel to "Notice." Therefore, AU Twyin/Sansa pairing! Rated M for mature scenes.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own _A Song of Ice and Fire_. GRRM has his grubby hands all over it.

**Author's Note**: This is the twelfth fic in my one-word prompt series. It is also the extremely smutty sequel to "Notice," so it is an AU Tywin/Sansa pairing. Please exercise caution when reading this fic, an overabundance of Dominant!Tywin has been known to cause hot flashes, lots of blushing, and the inability to meet your neighbor's eye. If the symptoms persist, please read more fic.

* * *

The room he led her to was opulent and dominated by a large four-poster bed. She expected him to take her directly to it, but he surprised her by leaving her in the middle of the room. Instead, he went to a small table, tucked away in a corner, and returned with a chair, which he placed in front of a tall mirror. He beckoned her over before seating himself. She crossed the room nervously, feeling awkward in such a rich environment. Though her family had money, they did not display it in such a manner.

She soon found herself before him, gazing down at him as he had done her earlier, except this time his expression was without anger, though she could see that his eyes were burning with lust. Sansa could not recall having been looked at like that before; she felt naked and scorched despite the fact that she was fully clothed and the room was cool.

She watched as Tywin tilted his head. His gaze was pensive, as if she were a mystery that he was attempting to puzzle out. Sansa didn't feel mysterious at all. His accusations of deceit and treachery had confused her; what ulterior motives she had regarding working at Casterly had nothing to do with corporate secrets and were only marginally concerned with her father's company. But somehow, Tywin Lannister had gotten it into his head that she was some sort of spy. He had threatened her, overtly and obliquely, before suggesting that she prove her innocence by sleeping with him.

Sansa could not recall a time in which she had been more confused, or more aroused, she admitted to herself. Prior to that day, she had only had glimpses of the Lannister patriarch, and he had never looked then as he did now. There was hunger in his eyes, like he was starving and only she could satisfy him. The attention was…flattering, and frightening.

"How much experience do you have, Miss Stark?"

The question startled her. "W-what do you mean?"

"What experience do you have sexually?"

"Um, not much, not really. I've had sex before, a few times. That's it."

"Do you masturbate?"

She blushed, hard. He sounded so detached, so clinical, but the way he wrapped his mouth around the words made her shiver.

"Y-yeah, sometimes."

"Have you done so in the presence of someone else before?"

"No!" What a mortifying idea! Why would anyone do something like that?

She watched as a smirk curled the corners of his mouth, "Well, Miss Stark, tonight will be a night of several firsts for you, I imagine. Take off your clothes."

She couldn't help it, she squeaked, "What?"

"I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Miss Stark, so when I give you a directive, I expect you to follow it without question. Is that understood?"

Sansa was aware of his reputation, you'd have to live under a rock to not be, so she hated to think of what would happen if she didn't perform to his standards. Therefore, she did the only thing she could do in the circumstances: she began to take off her clothes.

She felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the Sansa Stark that had chosen her outfit earlier that day. Her clothes were simple in comparison to other women at work: a pale-blue blouse, a knee-length skirt, and flats. Unwilling to contend with stockings or hose, Sansa waxed her legs regularly. A silent prayer was given in thanks of the fresh wax she had performed the day before.

But, her simple clothes did not make her feel sexy, so stripping them off whilst standing in front of Tywin Lannister was an issue of speed, not show. Until he called her out on her haste.

"This is not a race, Miss Stark. As you can see, I am not competing with you."

Oh gods, she hadn't even noticed that he had not made a single move to take off his own clothes. There was no possible way that she could do this, stand naked in front of him while he remained clothed! Her fingers froze on the last button of her blouse. A silky, threatening voice interrupted her inner monologue of terror and embarrassment, " I don't believe I asked you to stop, Miss Stark. Continue."

Sansa recalled the statement he had made moments before regarding his impatience and decided that she would rather be naked in front of Tywin Lannister and be embarrassed than be clothed in front of an irate Tywin Lannister; she undid the last button.

Her blouse fell from her pale shoulders and slid down her arms. She fought the urge to fold her arms over her bra-covered breasts. There was no visible change in his expression; did he like the way she looked? Was she too pale; were her breasts too small? She was so absorbed in her insecurities over her appearance that Tywin's sudden exhalation shocked her. Sansa flushed when she realized that he had stopped breathing when her shirt came off.

The thought gave her the courage to go on.

She slowly moved her arms from her sides and grasped the waistband of her skirt. The zip was in the back, and the action of lowering it had her breasts (what little of them there was) jutting outwards as her back arched to accommodate her movements.

There it was again, that hitch in his breathing. This time, it was followed by a subtle shifting of his legs, they fell open just a little bit more. Sansa felt a thrill of excitement shiver its way down her spine; she had _power_ over this man, he truly wanted her, not for information, though. This was about him wanting _her_. She stepped out of her flats and pushed her skirt down in one motion, revealing the white lace of her panties.

* * *

Tywin's sudden intake of breath, followed by his exclamation of "_Gods be good_," reverberated in the silence of the room.

The flush that spread across her body was blocked from his view by her bra and the scrap of virginal looking lace between her legs. The bulge between his thighs was prominent now, and becoming uncomfortable, but he was loathe to interrupt the proceedings by calling attention to his body's needs.

His gaze was drawn to her hands as she pulled them back up her body and reached around to the clasp of her bra. The snap was audible, and Tywin was leaning forward in his chair, anticipating with every breath the moment that he would see her nipples, flushed and erect.

Again, his breath caught in his chest as the bra fell away, revealing the prize beneath. Gods, she was perfect. Her breasts were small, but pert, and tipped with the most luscious rosy-pink nipples that he had ever seen. He was immediately aware of the desire to suckle at her breasts for hours, laving those perfect teats until she begged for mercy. His cock twitched at the image.

_Later_, he thought,_ for now, concentrate on the sight of her slipping off those lace panties_.

Sansa was indeed slipping her underwear off and stepping out of it daintily. At last, she stood before him in all her natural glory. Tywin was pleased to note the red thatch of curls nestled between her thighs. His mouth watered at the thought of burying his face there later, inhaling her musky scent, devouring her endlessly, but first, the matter at hand, "Touch yourself."

"W-what?"

"You heard me, Miss Stark, pleasure yourself; for I will not touch you until you touch yourself to my satisfaction."

"I don't—I'm not sure how to start…"

"Are you asking for instruction?"

She nodded timidly.

"Very well, Miss Stark, we shall begin with your breasts: take your hands and cup them, feel their exquisite weight."

Tywin could see and hear the pace of her breathing increase as she followed his directions. Her hands looked beautiful, cupping her breasts; Tywin would have her offer them to him later, but her nipples cried out for attention.

"Take two fingers from your right hand and wet them."

He nearly leapt from his chair and tackled her when he saw her hand drift down to her cunt instead of up to her mouth, returning sopping wet. A groan forced its way up and out of his throat; he was going to fuck her until neither one of them could walk!

Tywin closed his eyes, blocking out the image of the unknowingly seductive Sansa Stark, while frantically trying to reassemble the threads of his rationality. Her voice pierced through his mental scrambling, confused, desperate, and aroused, "What do I do next, sir?"

The 'sir' had him stumbling over his words, an entirely new experience, "P-pinch your nipple, Miss Stark, t-then circle it!"

Confusion again, "Which one?"

"Either! Both!"

He was losing the battle for his rational mind as lust swept over him, catching him up in a rising tide. Tywin opened his eyes just in time to see Sansa's mouth fall open in ecstasy at the sensations she was causing in her body. Quiet, breathy gasps were huffing out of her mouth with every rotation and pinch of her nipples.

Something in him broke as he took in the sight before him. He was done with merely observing, he had to act or be driven made by the lust she inspired in him. "Enough," the word rasped out, and unhearing, she continued.

"I said enough, Miss Stark!"

Her fingers froze in the act of pinching her ripe nipples and she whimpered.

"Come here, Miss Stark."

She walked towards him on unsteady feet, and he spread his legs open further to accommodate her.

"You will observe now, Miss Stark. Pay attention, for this is how you will be touching me later."

First, he loosened his tie, the fabric clutching at his throat was suffocating; then, his hands reached for his belt. Tywin arched his hips slightly as he pulled the leather from the loops of his waistband, reveling in the full-body shudders that wracked Sansa's frame as his clothed legs brushed against her naked thighs.

Keeping his hips arched, he swiftly undid the button and zipper, letting out a soft sigh of relief as the pressure on his cock was lifted, and pushed his trousers and briefs down.

* * *

Sansa let out a small moan at the sight of a disheveled Tywin Lannister. He was gorgeous when he came undone. His breath came out in pants and his hard cock twitched against his thighs. Even though Sansa did not have vast stores of experience to draw on, she knew that he was bigger than the boys who had taken her before. _Gods, what was that going to feel like once it was inside her?_

She looked at him with open appreciation, and she could tell that he was gratified by what she was sure was an awed expression on her face because his eyes were slightly turned up, and the corners of his mouth curled almost imperceptibly.

One of the hands that had been pushing down his trousers grasped his cock while the other lay limply on his thigh. She spared a moment to ask, "I thought you were left-handed?"

He let out a grunt on an upward stroke and replied, "One should never leave themselves vulnerable, even in a moment such as this."

That—that actually made a lot of sense.

Tywin let out another groan, snagging her attention back to the hand on his cock. His head was thrown back against the chair, the cords in his neck straining as he stroked. He looked…delectable; there was no other word that fit him as well, and she was consumed by the need to find out what he tasted like.

Sansa leaned forward and licked a stripe up his neck. The hand that had been laying on his thigh was suddenly wrapped around her throat. He pushed her away, far enough to look her in the eyes. "I told you to observe, Miss Stark, not touch."

"I-I'm sorry, sir! I just wanted…"

"You wanted?" He prompted.

"I wanted to know what you tasted like."

The hand around her throat squeezed slightly as Tywin groaned long and low, then his hand relaxed its grip. She glanced down at his lap and was surprised and disappointed to find that he had spilled his seed all over his hand.

He sat back in his seat, sated for the moment. The hand covered in his spunk rose slowly and hovered close to her lips. "Open your mouth, Miss Stark, and take your taste."

Sansa's lips parted and her tongue slipped out to lick at his fingers. The salty flavor made her grimace, it was the first time she had ever tasted a man's seed.

"Bitter, isn't it, Miss Stark. Don't worry, you'll soon become accustomed to it."

Sansa felt another jolt of lust shoot down to her abdomen as Tywin cleaned his hand, his tongue sweeping out in long, smooth strokes. She had never imagined that he would do something as filthy as that. When he finished, they spent several seconds staring at each other in silence.

Tywin broke the stillness first, "Premature as that was, we are far from being done, Miss Stark. Turn around."

In a daze, she turned and presented him with her back. The tips of her hair brushed against her skin, and she shivered, then jumped when she felt warm hands grasp the cheeks of her ass, pulling at the skin and muscles. It was a strange, but not unwelcome, sensation.

Sansa jumped again when he breathed against her back, when had he gotten that close? She let out a yelp when his teeth sank into her ass, and then moaned as he sucked at the mark, soothing it with his tongue. Tywin's voice floated up to her, "It would not be an exaggeration, Miss Stark, to tell you that your ass is a thing of perfection."

Sansa could feel her body heating up in response to his lewd comment, but his off-hand compliment pleased her. His hands slid over her cheeks and grabbed her hips, pulling her down into his lap as he leaned back into the chair. Her descent was not graceful, and she ended up sprawled in his lap.

However, he wasn't done giving instructions yet, "Lift your legs, Miss Stark."

"What—why?"

"Lift them and place them over the arms of the chair."

Gradually, she began to raise her legs, but the movement was arrested when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Her legs were splayed open wantonly, her cunt fully exposed. Mortified, she lowered her legs and closed her thighs.

Tywin growled in her ear, "Raise. Your. Legs. Now."

"But the mirror—I can't!"

"You can and you will, Miss Stark, and do you know why?"

She shook her head miserably.

"You will do as I say because I want to see your wet cunt as I fuck you with my fingers. You want that too, don't you?"

_Oh gods, she wanted that more than anything_.

"Y-yes!"

"Then raise your legs and hook them over the arms of the chair."

This time, she lifted her legs as quickly as possible, avoiding looking in the mirror as she did.

"Very good, Miss Stark. You really should look in the mirror now; you're quite a vision like this. I can see every inch of your cunt. Would you like to know what it looks like?"

Sansa shook her head violently, but she could feel her cunt clenching at the thought, and a trickle of wetness seeping out. Tywin continued whispering temptation into her ear, his fingers smoothing over her thighs.

"Your cunt is red and ripe like a cherry, and it's _glistening_. How wet are you, Miss Stark? Show me."

Her limbs were trembling as she moved a shaky hand between her legs, swiping two of her fingers over her cunt, gathering up the moisture there.

"Hold them up where I can see, Miss Stark."

Still shaking, her hand rose into the air before them.

Tywin sighed into her hair, "Perfect."

Without warning, his right hand moved from her thigh, and two of his fingers plunged into her cunt. Her hips arched off of his lap and she shrieked.

"Does it hurt?"

"N-no, sir! It's good—ah! It's good!"

There was no pain, only the slick glide of Tywin's fingers in and out of her cunt. She was writhing on top of him, unable to control her body's response to the sensations he was creating.

On an upstroke, his fingers curled, and his thumb swept over her clit. Sansa's legs spasmed, her belly tightened, and then Tywin…stopped? _No, please no, please, please_, "Please!"

"'Please,' what, Miss Stark?"

"P-please, don't stop! I was so close, just a little—"

"You will come when I allow it."

Sansa couldn't stop herself from whimpering at his heartless declaration, "Please, I'll do anything! Just make me come!"

"Ask me for your pleasure, Miss Stark, I want to hear you _beg_ for it."

"Yes, anything!"

The fingers that had stilled within her began to move again, and Sansa's breath hiccupped out of her mouth. Tywin gave a particularly vicious thrust then withdrew his fingers to circle and pinch her clit.

"You're not begging, Miss Stark."

"I—I want to come, sir, please! I have to—"

"You're close, Miss Stark, but you're not quite there. What will you do for me if I let you come?"

"Anything, sir!"

"Would you suck my cock?"

"Gods, yes!"

"How would you do it? How would you please me?"

All the filthy thoughts that had swarmed her mind as she watched Tywin stroke himself tumbled out of her mouth, "I-I'd lick you, sir, from the base to the tip?"

"Would you? How filthy; and then?" Tywin pinched her clit lightly, denying her the pressure she needed.

"I'd suck on the tip, sir, h-hard." She groaned in relief as his fingers reentered her, "And I'd—I would nibble, just a little!"

Sansa could feel Tywin's erection stirring back to life against her ass, and clenched down hard on his fingers.

"You sound very experienced, Miss Stark, did you lie to me earlier?"

"N-no—ah! No, sir! Watching you, seeing you touch yourself, gods, I wanted to do that! You make me want everything! Oh gods, _please_, sir, I'm so close!"

* * *

Gods, he hadn't thought that he would be able to take her so soon, but her writhing, her filthy, beautiful mouth, the scent of her musk in the air, and the sound of his fingers squelching in her wetness had him suddenly straining against her like a callow youth.

He was practically panting in her ear like a dog when he asked, "Do you want to come on my fingers, Miss Stark, or my cock?"

"Your cock, oh gods, your cock, please, sir!"

Tywin slid his fingers out of her slickness and sat up straighter in the chair, using one hand to steady her and the other (still covered in her juices) grasped his cock, positioning it at her opening. But, splayed out as she was, the position would grant neither of them the gratification they sought.

"Stand up, Miss Stark."

"What? Why?"

"If you want me to fuck you, Miss Stark, you will stand up, now."

She unhooked her legs with alarming speed and stumbled off his lap to stand before the mirror once again. Tywin was pleased to note that she was no longer shying from her reflection. He took a moment to observe her: her skin was mottled, splotches of red clung to her breast and throat; her shone with a light layer of sweat.

Sansa Stark looked thoroughly debauched and he hadn't even fucked her yet. The time had come to remedy that.

He stood up behind her, forcing her closer to the mirror. Tywin held her eyes in its reflection and proceeded to finish undressing. His movements were smooth and economical, no thought spared for show, but he saw her eyes widen and her tongue flick over her lips as he bared his skin.

Tywin left his clothes piled on the floor around them and stepped away, once again holding out his again for her to take. She turned from the mirror and took his hand, and he pulled her behind him to the enormous bed that dominated a good portion of his bedchamber. For years, he had thought its size unnecessary for a single person, but he was grateful for whatever reason had possessed him to hold onto it.

Once at the bed, he took a moment to throw away the unnecessary pillows and draw back the coverlet, if he was going to fuck Sansa Stark it was going to be between his sheets. Tywin gestured to climb in first; she did so awkwardly, but he appreciated the sight of her perfect buttocks swaying back and forth. She settled and turned to look at him expectantly, and, with slightly more grace, Tywin followed her into the bed and languidly settled over her.

The feeling of her naked flesh against made his breath hiss out and his jaw clench. This would not last, and he could not bear taking the time to prime her again.

"Miss Stark, how close are you?"

"V-very, sir."

Tywin smirked, even with the brief lapse she was still hot for him, "Good; spread your legs."

Her legs shifted and he sank between her thighs, aligning his hips with hers, using his hand to guide his cock to her cunt. He pushed in slowly, gradually nudging his hips up; he was already so close to coming, but he wanted to savor this first slide into her tight, wet depths. They gasped together at the sensation, and Sansa's legs curled themselves around his calves.

Suddenly, he was balls deep in her and biting his lip to keep himself from shooting off to early, the pain cleared his head only a little. Sansa's nails were digging into his back, chipping away at what little self-control he still had.

He drew back his hips and plunged again, she gasped. Not good enough; he pulled back again and adjusted his angle before thrusting, she moaned. It wasn't enough! He wanted her _screaming_ beneath him, falling apart and begging under his touch, his cock!

Tywin pulled back for a third time and lifted Sansa's hips up; this time, when he thrust, she screamed. _Perfect_. He kept the angle and plunged his hips back and forth; she squirmed beneath, trying to back away, trying to get closer, all the while she was chanting incoherently, "Sir! Gods, yes, _please_, sir!"

He felt his balls drawing up, tightening at the sounds of her small screams and panted words. He loved that even now, as he was tearing her apart with his cock, she called him 'sir.' Tywin had been wrong about his obsession, he could admit that to himself in the here and now with Sansa Stark beneath him: he could fuck her all day and all night and still want her.

"Miss Stark, open your eyes and look at me."

He was so close now, but he had to hear her beg one last time. She opened her bleary eyes and tried to focus on him.

"Do you want to come, Miss Stark?"

"Yes!"

"Then, you know what to do."

"Please, sir, please let me come! I need it, sir, I need your cock, I need you!"

Tywin moved a hand from her hip and pinched her clit, she wailed in response. Still pinching, he gave her a series of short, sharp thrusts and watched as fell to pieces.

Sansa threw back her head and arched back, and her cunt clenched down on his cock like a vise. He was unable to draw back, so he bore down on her and her spasms triggered his own orgasm. Tywin was momentarily blinded by its strength, stars were exploding behind his eyes.

When he returned to himself, she was sprawled before him, flushed, sweaty, and perfect. Her hair was spread across his pillows and her eyes were full of feminine satisfaction. Yes, he would have her, between his sheets for a long time to come. But, reality intruded far too soon, smashing the pleasant afterglow; Tywin's rationality returned and with it came questions.

"Are you clean, Miss Stark?" It was far too late to take precautionary measures, but time was of the essence if she was not.

"What? Oh, you mean…yes, sir, I'm clean. I got checked after the last time I—yeah, about six months ago." She blushed as she let that bit of information slip.

Six months since she had last fucked? At that moment, Tywin could not imagine going six _hours _without indulging in her.

"I am clean as well; however, birth control, are you on it? I will admit to being careless, but I will not say that I regret fucking you without a condom. You feel _exquisite_." Even in his softened state, he had not yet slipped from her warm cunt, and he gave a small thrust to prove it. She squeaked and her hands flew up to cover her face; she groaned through her fingers, "Oh gods, how stupid could we be? Fuck, no, I'm not on birth control right now! It has just been so long and I—"

"Yes, I rather understand that. Still, the situation must be remedied. I will send someone out to fetch a pill. In the meantime, Miss Stark, we will stay here and rest because I have the impression that I will want to fuck you again."

"Yes, sir."

He finally allowed himself to slip from her, the resulting mess was copious and sticky, but it could be dealt with later. He and Sansa maneuvered themselves until he was spooned against her back, his arm over her side and her buttocks snuggled into his groin. Together, their breathing slowed, and just as he was about to drift off, Sansa's sleepy voiced reached him, "It was you, sir."

He rumbled back tiredly, "What was?"

"You were the reason I wanted to work at Casterly."

A little more awake now, he wanted her to elaborate, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, y'see, a professor had said you were th'best. Wanted to see for myself, wanted to learn."

Sansa had almost drifted completely away, but Tywin felt like he had been touched by a live wire; he had to know the rest, "And?" He prodded.

"An' you are…you're perfect an'…" Sleep finally captured her and the rest of her words were slurred.

He wanted to shake her back awake and demand to know the rest, but her admission had settled something within him. She was no corporate spy, but a student, eager to learn. Instead of letting sleep occupy his mind, Tywin was letting image after image assail him: Sansa learning at his side, taking over her father's company, gracing his sheets and his desk at the office. Provided she had the potential, she could be great, and he would rather bend that greatness to his favor.

The future was uncertain. But, there could come a day when Sansa sported more than his company's name.

Sansa Lannister, she could be powerful indeed.


End file.
